And from now on…

Today the truck traffic on the road is constant. It makes me feel as though I live next to the interstate. They must be topping a local county road with tar and rock. A week ago on our motorcycle outing we found one of the recent toppings and had to take a different route home. The rock is just to slippery. I thought they had changed tactics recently and put rock then tar. But apperentyly one county does it the old way.

Fall is headed our way. The vegetable garden is a disaster. With the drought and the bugs, there is simply not much to harvest. Living in the country with the the insect population sometimes makes us want to just give up. Many of our country cousins have done just that. This year it is grasshoppers and drought ONE and garden ZERO. We have tried to look at the bright sight. But even the flowers are fighting for existence.

My allergies are later on arrival this year. Thank goodness. The headaches and asthma are minimal compared to past years. More vegetables and less of my actual irritants has helped. (Found out that allergy to potato, barley, and almond makes for a limited diet.). I have only had one scary reaction this month. I count that as success. Honey has not had to be on the alert near as much. She’s probably getting out of practice. Might have to stage a training session.

This week we celebrated a special 90th birthday. It was great to see everyone come out and give well wishes. There is also a old neighbor’s funeral this week. Much of the fond memories that we cling to is all of the generous personalities of others. I am buoyed by the show of neighborly giving that I see among these two lives. From the youthful days of each woman’s servitude to the elderly days of others coming alongside to take up the reins. Watching the blessings return is so special.

With the end of one month and the start of another, school is under way around the region. August either rolls into September or blows into fall. And from now on there are a number of significant birthdays to celebrate. Both of our parent sets have fall birthdays. I feel like the odd ball out in that region. (Mine is in spring.). Along with the fall birthdays, however another set of memories come flooding back

Harvest and the end of the growing season has filled the last twenty years with many blessings. Previous to that the second miscarriage loss would flood my mind about this time of year. It happened in our country house in Iowa. I have very clear visions of the day. I was standing in the kitchen when I heard the audible voice of a little girl call out “Mama…”. I replied “what is it honey?” Before even trying to look and see if it was one of my daughters standing there. When the voice replied, “I came to get my little brother.” I felt the wind get knocked out of me as a stomach cramp like no other socked me in the middle. I turned around and slid to the floor crying as I knew exactly what was about to happen. The vision that came to my spirit next while my hands buried my face in my knees was of a little girl skipping through the prairie grass and flowers holding on to the nad of her little tow headed brother. The tears and the pain were so real.

Unfortunately that was a Friday and even by Sunday the clot had not passed. I was having labor pains this time and the tears just would not stop. Sunday the family was supposed to have a birthday party for grandfather and I ended up staying home. Finally after the late afternoon things were looking better. This time however the miscarriage had hid me so hard. We knew this time we would need to wait at least 6-9 months before another attempt.

Every one looks at the hope of spring differently. For me back then it was possibility of perhaps having a third child. Both my husband and I are third children. So we have a special fondness for any child who is either an “oops” third or a “planned” third. I never in my growing up years knew a family with only two kids. That seemed so empty to me.

Praise my two daughters filled our house to the full with their love for music that followed those early parenting years. The “fullness” of those years was such a privilege. I never wanted to complain about my girls to other people. (However, some people took my positive look at my girls as a -negative- and thought that I was being boastful. It was hard for me to hear the awful things people said about their greatest blessings.)

So there, that’s the story of the second little dreamer in my library. Little Dillan plum tuckered out on the rocking horse. Now that I have grand children who laugh and giggle with each other, it’s not hard for me to imagine little Nora and little Dillan sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to his stories and giggling as He scoops them up and kisses them rubbing his whiskery chin on their little necks.

From My Park Bench

The whole month of June flew by and though there are four drafts in my file, nothing made it to print. The month was busy with farmer’s market, purging flowers and geraniums, trying to stay ahead of the weeds in the garden and some much needed family time. The local farmers market saw us twice. Then the work thing crept in and there just was not time to keep up with everything on the acreage and be gone from home for four or five hours on a Saturday morning. When all you have is the weekend to accomplish the acreage cleanup, the hours become precious. Also, the heat kind of kept us away a couple of times. Purging flowers and plants from the greenhouse took all of the month. I planted the last tomatoes when my niece came for camp weekend. They looked pretty worn out from their little containers. But are thriving in their “space” outside. Most of the larger geraniums are outside the greenhouse now. And thank goodness the wind has given us a break and things look wonderful. Staying ahead of the weeds also meant planting the old “potato” box grow bed into the salad box. It was so hot and dry the day I planted it all. But the thought of it gave me so much pleasure. With some appropriate drip tubing everything is up and green.

Family time this last month meant Sunday lunches with Gavin’s folks. I have been playing piano more at church these days. Though it is somewhat stressful to memorize the entirety, my mind wandered back to the day when as a thirteen year old I thought I would never be able to sit at the keyboard without a line of music in front of me. We had Christmas in June with my family and got together for the first time in over a year. It was so good to see everyone. We also celebrated my mother’s 80th birthday that day.

The month of June was also taken up with kitten care. I started a blog about the ferrel beastings and their little broods, but it seems to have lost it’s importance. After the family gathering, I spent much of the night in grief wondering where the years and time have gone. It’s hard to have the holiday blues in the middle of the summer. But thank the Lord, the days are busier and it did not last long. Nevertheless, I have nearly three drafts started all just in that week alone.

Good Grief!

Who ever coined that phrase anyhow? Grief certainly does not feel good. And there are many times grieving amounts to no good at all. This past month there have been a number of women on my prayer list that have had to deal with their share of grief. So, my mind took a play list of memory lane that I have not visited for some time.

The change of life comes in many different shapes and colors. For me, having early term miscarriages one after another for four years told me child bearing was not to be my main lot in life. I should learn to be grateful for the two beautiful girls that God had gifted us with. About the time I began to except secondary infertility, other things began to change the course of our lives.

Each of the beautiful souls that God gave me a glimpse of are commemorated in my library. The next few weeks I hope to spend some time remembering each of the “hopes” that I once had. I am so thankful that God brought Himself ever close at hand beside me during those days and the memories of His hand holding mine are special to recall.

From my park bench…

This July began with a family birthday gathering. God has blessed our girls with beautiful spouses and gifted us with grandchildren. They bring so much joy and pleasure to our days. I am so thankful that I can count the ways of our Lord in His goodness to us. We spent the fourth of July in quietness and in the heat my husband made me this lovely park bench.

We went to Boston the summer of 2010 and while there I ended up taking a walk on the waterfront by myself one evening. I saw a bench like this in repetition with many women in pairs sitting and catching up with each other on their lives. Of course much of the conversation was in another language. I thought that so particular to Boston. Then last summer my hubby and I took a motorcycle trip and found ourselves visiting a garden. There again were multiples of this particular bench.

I know that my hubby probably hated every minute of trying to measure and cut and assemble this park bench. Knowing his displeasure of carpentry makes the bench all the more meaningful to me.

So for the next six entries, come have a seat on the park bench with me as I share how God has been part of my journey form childbearing through miscarriages and into the present day of good grief!

Romans 8:28 “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God ; to those who are the called according to His propose.”(ESV)

Seven Spring Memories

The first of seven memories goes to all those years of Good News Club lessons. Seven years is the time frame that Jacob waited for Rachel. His father in law tricked him and gave him Leah instead. “Leah was eyes were delicate, but Rachel was beautiful of form and appearance. (ESV)”. Jacob could not live without his love, so he worked another seven years for Rachel. Then the battles began. The story is found in the book of Genesis chapter 29. Why on earth would I think of this story from Genesis first with the though of the number seven? Could not I first have though of the seven days of the week, from the Creation account? Could not I though of the seven years of famine? Could I not have thought of any other story of seven? Bother. Must i even now be reminded of my delicate eyes? Let’s move on, shall we…?

The second spring milestone has to do with this blog. Seven years ago I decided to write an online journal. Typing comes fairly easy for me. And much of my written blog is actually begun as spoken. Since this blog began, both of my daughters graduated college and are now married. My pets are still two dogs, a dozen outdoor cats, and an unstable pony. We now have three wonderful grand children by the same set of parents. And my hubby now drives to the city and into traffic for his job. We put up a geodesic dome greenhouse, and I am still currently occupied keeping up with the chores of home and garden.

The third memory is from late spring and the busy-ness of the season. My daughter’s 10-year class reunion occurs this summer. Somehow I missed my first daughters’ tenth year out. Home school means a quiet family reunion of some sort should be planned. The graduation event ten years prior was not quiet. We filled the acreage with vehicles, family, friends, relatives, neighbors, music acquaintances, and the like came to celebrate. Of course for me the event was overshadowed with the loss of my driving license. My eyesight had deteriorated to the point of full peripheral blindness. Declaring legal blindness was not a public announcement likeour daughters choice of universities.

The fourth spring memory is both sad and glad. The first day of Spring always reminds me of our beloved family pet Furbie. It was on that date that we let him go the way of the earth. Though that might be hard thoughts and once upon a time I though I would never stop crying. Today we remember him with much fondness. He had such a large personality for such a little 22 pound body!

The fifth memory is a collection of thoughts. The revolving pet door has continued. We had a bad experience along the way that is that “unmentionable” name. And I made an error in personal judgement giving up my self-trained guide dog. Nevertheless the dogs and cats continue to coexist and Coca has outlived them all. Someone suggested that I get a “guide” horse. But really choosing one of the animals that I am most allergic to seems unrealistic. Just to have his hooves trimmed by the farrier requires every allergy medicine that I can take to avoid a disaster health wise. To me there is nothing fairy like about a farrier!

The sixth memory is one that we are making right now! Today my work in the greenhouse had some companion time. The two of them did share the bed for a bit. Tabitha was determined to bother Eva’s poor pig ear. I imagine that it should be removed or at least looked at once again. But at 13 years, I loathe to spend more money on her. I filled up the growing spaces with more plants. So the healing feline was well behaved. She has not even attempted to escape the dome. I think she rather prefers being “indoors.”

And finally the seventh memory. Brings me back to this writing thing. The site wants me to focus on the quantity of followers. But for me it is more about the journal itself. Looking back keeps the mind alert. Looking forward fills the heart with hope. Looking at each day gives one perspective and purpose. So seven years came and went pretty fast. My fourth year was the best in readership so far. I have not really focused on an exact memoire yet. And this week, it took me four days of 2-4 hours each day just to clean up and feed the gallon plus size geraniums in the greenhouse. They use to make me sneeze something awful. Especially when we used to stay at my mother’s house and she had then on every window sill and basement window-well in the house! Times have changedk, have they not?

A new home for Tabitha

Living on the family homestead has meant many domestic cats have found their home here. From the days when the kids were around to tame the four legged critters, things have not changed too much. The last ten years the names have revolved much like the population. Thank goodness our numbers have always stayed below a dozen. Maybe it is because the scoop we use for food holds just enough to feed nine or ten cats. However, the wild tomcat migration often catches unawares and spring means a new set of kittens now and again.

Some of our neighbors are into trapping and keeping their brood down to a handful. I’m wondering if that would have saved our expenses some. Nevertheless, this poor girl has a story of her own.

Tabitha came to our acreage a few years ago. We picked up five little kittens from a neighbor with different colorings then our boring black clan. The only other cat with different markings at the time was Autumn. And she had failed as an indoor cat, because she was so messy with her litter. I was a bit tired of the pebbles tracked all over the house. And our family has much cat allergy problems, so out she went. She was feisty enough to defend herself by then.

The following spring Autumn had some patchy colored kittens of whom three remain. It is a bit hard on the populous to live right next to a paved road. It lies 100 feet to the west. Some of the cats will cross the road to go hunt for years, while others don’t even make it the first year.

Tabitha, Boomerang, and Autumn all visited the vet for alteration at the same time. This assured that no one would get picked on for being different. That only worded for a year or so. Autumn is mean and tries to boss everyone around. Boomerang can hold her own and does not take much gruff. Tabitha is just too easy and kind. She has the sweetest personality and loves little kids. So when we began to notice abrasions on her body from the rough crowd, She won’t fight to stay at the food dish either.

A visit to the local vet confirmed our suspicions. She is just too nice. So after our return home, I decided now that the greenhouse is so full of plants, there really is nowhere for her to get into the grow beds. A few alterations to the environment were made. She slept well her first night there.

This morning I made one of the “cat hut” homes that are such a feline favorite. It only needs one door as there is no prey possibilities. She took right to her little house. A water dish, a food dish, and litter box are all in place. If I don’t see any activity in the litter I will have so make a smaller temporary “room” for her. There is just so many scratching options. Meanwhile, the plastic knives and hot pepper shaker found their way into all of the exposed soil areas. It has always worked outdoors so I am hopeful she is a fast learner.

Tabitha has a new home for now. We considered finding her a new permanent home, but she really does need some time to heal. I may even clip those nails so she is not scratching her own coat as it heals. She would be the second “gentle” kitty to be re-homed to an indoor lifestyle. The first was Sugar. She also was too gentle for the farm. A new home for Tabitha is accomplished for the moment.

This past week, I found a short poem on gardening that really made me smile. “Your mind is a garden. Your thoughts are the seeds. You can grow flowers, Or you can grow weeds.” Indeed, many people just don’t even try to cultivate the mind anymore. In this society of anything goes, they just let things happen, and don’t even try to be the master of their own thoughts. I do hope that inviting this little girl into the garden dome does not prove to be a disaster. Cats and garden just don’t mix real well usually.

Talking about love, love, love

My temperature blanket is finally taking shape! The idea sown last January is coming to fruition. Each month is represented by one square. The chosen colors are based on the temperature high and low for the month. Then the set of seasons are put together with the rising and falling temperature. Each season is put together by the weather that becomes them.

The whole blanket may or may not have a border. That has not been decided yet by the amount of left over yarn from the original skeins of color. I am excited to have cold enough weather to actually continue this project.

Talking about the weather is pretty much what begins every conversation in my life here in the Dakotas. The wind, the cold, the sunshine or the lack of moisture proceeds all other topics. While some people are oblivious to the weather, some of us have pets that require attention outdoors rain or shine.

Those people that show up at the day job in shorts and end up having to go home at break to change…. I don’t understand them. Every day of my life is decided by what the weather is today or tonight. The temperature tells me just what to wear. How to dress in this blustery unforgiving windy cold is very important if I want to feel my fingers the rest of the morning!

Well that’s enough about the weather, Now, How are you? The next topic of conversations might just involve who suffers from the most pain , you or the person you are talking to…. But even that is not a conversation that will last real long.

What is new? Yep, that the next headline. In my life it usually means some flower that is blooming. Here are some examples below. The Holiday cactus has decided the holidays should begin a week earlier this year. I forgot that by painting the living room and hallway, the cycle would be sped up nearly one week. The poor plant sat in the library for nearly five days before it returned to its prominent location in the south front window. The canna in the greenhouse finally recovered from it’s move to the indoor location. And these beautiful winter bloom begonias were a recent find at wally’s world.

This week we get back to the blanket and perhaps some Christmas ideas. I am not much of a crafter. The hot glue usually burns my fingers more than it sticks objects together. So minimal painting or such is my plan. Though giving plants is easier, not everyone want to take care of plant babies. Oh, and this next month will be full of plant seeding and seed starts! Oh, how spring shoots forth hope in my being. (Hope springs eternal?)

November is nearly to a close. We were blessed with sharing flowers to a few loved ones around Thanksgiving. And I found a gorgeous poinsettia to give to an elderly friend who turns 93 this week. Perhaps my passion for plants and flowers will help me spread a little holiday cheer this year!

Reason to Live (the final installment)

Finishing the CD review or renew or remembering

The last four years has been one of much change in our lives. The last three more so. Empty nesters is not a term that I like to use in my description of ourselves in the most recent past. After the girls off and left me, okay, really, they just got married and added numbers tot he family, right? Well, still redefining motherhood is nothing like descovering sainthood, that’s for sure.

So once the nest is empty, we soon find ways to fill the void. And for us it was a little 22 foot growing dome. Learning how to make things grow is a little different than watching kids grow and and become adults. But really much is the same. There are plant babies. Then little plants that leave the “next” and find new homes. And some get so stay and become tomorrows foddor.

Five years ago? It really does not seem real. Five years ago, I saw a video of this little geodesic dome greenhouse and wanted one so much that I cried. Now, plant babies leave very frequently and the empty nest never stays empty very long.

Having a “reason to live” means purpose and planning for one’s tomorrows. whether as in the song, the morrow is eternal or as in the greenhouse these seems to be forever a spring, purpose keeps life moving forward. I am so grateful for something TO DO!

Relatives of relatives and friends of friends are our connections throughout the circle of life. People help the world go-around. Looking at these connections through the “triangle” is easy for me. I know you. You know another person, and soon that other person then knows me. And just like that we are connected in a triangle of friendship.

This triangle of connecting one to another is key through our lives. It helps us to get where we are going, or perhaps we help another person get to the path in life that they lead. I am always fascinated by the connections that we have with a random person. My daughter once sat by someone on an airplane that was a shirt-tail relation. But they were only four people removed from knowing each other!

We used my daughter’s family connection to get the logo set up for Greenfield Greenhouse. It was so good to put a bit of “finality” or maybe a seed of beginning to this five year incubation phase. It’s time to let the nest be a home to more plant babies. I hope the business side of this building does not get so overwhelming. But I am so excited to do some plant seed harvesting. More geranium baby production and to see how the overwintering building will do this next year.

And I am also glad to do the final installment of this CD remembering. 1998 seems like such a very long time ago when the music was all created. I hope that the family that inspired this song has done well since then. I think of them often.

Once upon a summer

Writing on a blank slate is not something that today’s children even understand. Recently I watched a cheaply done movie about a young aritist and a young musician. They had many discussions about working with a purpose in mind. Purpose to them meant selling a message, or telling a message. Most of the movie was meant for a pre-teen audience with it’s focus on moral right and relationship building. The movies had a decent enough platform and did get the point across to question what we do on a daily basis as part of a larger purpose. A couple of time’s I though about the generation predecessor of the great war causes (like WWI and WWII).

Once upon a summer, I buried a pail of cherry pits in a hole, covered it with the dirt and this little tree emerged. I cannot recall whether this summer of ago was the pits but I do remember putting the pits in the hole. In fact, there were three others that produced a little tree. The cherry pits came from Great-Grandpa’s tree just outside our bedroom window.

How is it the summers become blurry in our memory? Summers with children and family are busy times. Summers are for vacations and going places. When the kids have gone and the spouse has a job we find our own ways to make summer busy. Even people who work, and garden, find summer crowded with activity

As a child the emptiness of summer was no problem. The fact that the daus go by ever too quickly and soon the vacation days are over made me long for afternoons. After school book diving became my pleasure. Today, I still find it easy to bury myself in the sands of a really good book. Days speed righ by when a good book is taking us out to another world.

Cherry picking and pitting time is a very busy time and a bit messy. This summer I’m hoping the cherries are right before we want to go on vacation. It seems that the two-day window for picking time lands on the wrong weekend every year. Last summer we got back to them too late. The red juiciness were drying on the tree already

With the windbreak all prepared for growing, we can focus on other things now. Like the garden’s weeds that went out of control. And there is a blank slate spot in the “east of the barn” area that needs to be planted yet. I have some flower packets, and more carrots to plant.

Imagination is the ability to create something out of nothing. I had fun playing pretend “drinking” with my grand daughter one afternoon. She ran to fetch me a drink of water from her play kitchen, only to have me declare that it was “juice” or “vinegar” or some other incredulous liquid besides water. The play went on for nearly a half an hour until she insisted that “apple juice” was better than water. I was finally satisfied with my drink and said “Oh, thank you!”d

The enjoyment of imagination can turn the wrong direction quickly. Like this morning when I was up on in the dark barn to take this picture, and something was hissing at me. Pretty sure it was a possum. I don’t any cats that hiss at me. Well, I managed to take my picture, and then skedaddled back down the stairs.

So, how does your imagination work for you? Do you take a skein of yarn and make something band new? Do you enjoy gardening and watching thins grow? How about those dark places where things make noises at you? Why don’t you take a blank slate and create something enjoyable today!

Another update

Okay now I really don’t like my word press blog site. They updated it again! AND I really hate change. The whole look and the way I want to write has been changed. So, yep I once again am completely hampered by the change.

This block editing is totally not my style. Not sure that I have a style, but this is definitely not it. I think of myself as a semi-professional writer. Maybe I am an amuteur at web paging, but writing is something I am suppose to enjoy. Insert emoji loudly screaming baby face!!!

So along with this unwelcome change, life moves on. April showers were non-existent but May flowers are still blooming. There has been some rain in the last week enough to chase the drought away. But if you dig down six inches in our garden, the soil is dry. Somehow the corn is up about 10 miles to the south of us.

We are in the middle of “Birthday Month.” And so that is keeping us busy with celebrations. It seems that in our family the spring really sprung! From March through June there are equal birthday numbers to the Octoberfest that slides into November.

Meanwhile, I hope that at some point I can get my blog set up back to what it was. (The change is permanent, so I have read.) I can’t even find how to add photos to the blog. My husband had to poke around for me and show me what to do. Nobody quite comprehends what screen changes do to someone with Retinitis Pigmentosia. Once that little curser runs away, there’s no hope of finding it again. The icon changes, and the like… well, I ought to quit my belly-aching and just write.

I am pretty excited about my upcoming logo design. I made a few contacts but so far no one has answered me. So I am patiently or not so patiently waiting. In a lot of ways, I feel like these three ladies in waiting. Haha.

Next time you see these two images, I hope to have the logo on the creamers at the greenhouse. They will sit in the rocks of the landscaping. The dairy cans are waiting for another coat of colored paint, but the weather has not been cooperating. I have the flowers for the top of them already also. Keeping them growing in the greenhouse has been enjoyable. I am aslo trying to figure out how to make the cans a bit more self-watering. They are so tall the bottom half does not even get used as a potting soil source. I will be filling them with riverrock.

Meanwhile… The garden has been all mapped out with the seedling plants in the greenhouse included in the key. There will be treasures galore as the summer comes on! I was also blessed to supply the Mother’s day plants to our church. The baby geraniums did very well. Of course those statrted in november did better than the February shoots. And I have some for myself that are taking their own sweet time at rooting out.

Well, there is my update. I am also putting together a song that I wrote based on Psalm 36. The melody is so catchy. I am always humming it.

The latest greenhouse project was the dinner-plate arrangements. Parsley, oregano, cilantro, chives, and basil work just as well in the planter as they do in the pantry. It’s crazy how seeds planted at the same time grow at different paces. It feels much like walking completely different dogs!

These pretty little geranium babies all found new homes on Mother’s Day. It was such a blessing to give them away. I only had a few left overs. Those are finding new homes this week as the days roll by. Soon the rest of the plant babies will all head out to the garden. The greenhouse will have to get it’s shade cloth on for the summer, so that everything does not get scorched from the heat. Judging the water needs is hard to do when there are so many different size planters and pots.

Yesterday’s tether

An asthma journal entry

When pain follows better than my shadow, the ibuprofen bottle takes a hit. I use to take one naproxime sodium every day. Then I decided to reduce all of my medications and find out what I was truly allergic to. That cost about $3,000. Thankfully we have insurance. But I am not allergic to money. If that grew on trees, it would be much better than whatever is budding right now. Between that and grass season, I may have to make some changes around here. Another week and the sneeze and wheeze will be history for a time again!

My asthma is doing much better after I found out malted milk shakes and white potato french fries were on my “no-no” list. Eating out is somewhat easier. Chocolate syrup will just have to be on it’s own in the milk from now on. Until the trees broke out in “bloom” song, my astham was at bay. Until… And to top it off, we had a bit of that badly needed moisture move through.

It just moved through. I’m not sure there was much rain in the clapping clouds. Enough to get my asthma going in the night though. Not enough for the dry land in our neck of the woods.

Yesterday has a tether on my tomorrow.

Today I am feeling the pain from too much yesterday. Anyone else get what that means? No, I do not mean that life is long. It is this “muchness” that often pulls us down. Gravity has a very downward effect. It’s that binge exercise plan that gets me every time.

How do we take the day after slower than the day before? Slowing down is just simply what comes of age, right? Yet it is not really age that makes us slow, it’s what happened the day before. Yesterday’s tether has a very long lead line into my tomorrow. Some people have arthritis. Some people have old injuries. Some people have disease. Some of us just did more than we should have. It’s that extra step that was the do-zie! Thus the slowing is much like a tether on the tomorrow.

Tethering tomorrow.

I found a leash that was still good and tied a loop in the middle. That way dog walking involves a tether. Eva is not so sure about being on the outside. But Honey gets to be the lead dog and take us both for a walk. Sometimes shopping for me is much like a tethering process. Going out and about these days with a mask on adds to the hampering of eyesights. My husband said that a few people at work had accidents the first month or so while mask wearing. With my tunnel vision, putting another barrier in the visual field makes things worse. I simply prefer not to shop. Never really liked it anyways.

Going shopping with little kids, a blind mother, and studying a phone app sounds like a recipe for disaster. Try giving a toddler a tiny basketball to hold on too. This photo opportunity was taken while I enjoyed the little gripping hands and plump little fingers holding on tight.It just seemed like the ball should have a tether on it. But it made for an interesting spectacle to see my daughter chasing after the the little round object, when shopping was the real object . This is one of my favorite pictures from the past month. I could not resist sharing it.

How does asthma feel? Asked the doctor who did not have such. And another doctor said that’s not asthma, you don’t have pain with asthma. How does he know? Once upon a time there was a television commercial that gave a little kids description of the feeling. “Like a fish out of water.” Asthma literally is oxygen deprivation. That doctor has never ran right after lunch with all of his might and then thrown up. I think that would hurt.

The first thing that tells me that I have asthma is the feeling that I just want to sleep. So I go to bed early. My heart begins to skip beats. These palpitations are not calves skipping in happiness through the spring grass. It usually catches me off guard, and then I feel nauseous or angry. (Ask anyone married to a person with a bad heart, and they will tell you their spouse gets angry without reason.). Because I want to control my fits of rage, I also want to just got to bed and leave people where they are. (If you wear strong perfume and I choose not to visit and act like I am trying to escape- it is the perfume, not you.)

Now that I have gone to bed and not taken care of the oxygen loss, the sleep hallucinations begin. Maybe they are dreams? Or maybe they are night mares. Many times the dreams are about people I have not seen in ages. So it is kind of like dreaming about the banquet hall in Heaven. Last night I saw Stene and Gladys from our home church in Minnesota. Wow! Do I ever miss their wit and wisdom. It was so exciting to see them.

Then this massive migraine hit me in the back of the head. I woke up from the feeling that my head was being used as a slam dunk object. Yeah, it hurts. I was hot or flushed much of the night, Using my inhaler there by the bed did not seem to help. I rose several times in the feeling of panic, sucking in air, and then downing cold water. That did not help much either.

Hiding under the covers all day is not really an adult option. Though I know some adults who do that. Getting up means the day has arrived. Yesterday is officially over. I am not tethered to the post at the head of the bed. Sometimes we have to do that to the dog. She does not have much “stick-to-it” with her bed at night. The wandering and the loud thump is just too distubing for a decent night’s slepp.

Never the less, the oxygen depraved migraine did not work to remind me that asthma was calling my name. There was no “lazarus come forth” moment for me. It was a phone call. The sound of my husband’s ring tone barking at me drove me out of my banqueting hall visit with all of the special people of faith that I long to see.

So today, I long for glory-land. It might be a “Gaither” kind of listening day. The Statler Brothers are another old hymn sing favorite. No death is not romantic. Death during sleep is not a wish most people receive. I am not making light of this past year when I talk about this. Falling asleep and rising up on the other side of “Joran” is not just a beautiful song that people sing about. But the asthma does bring on a lot more though about the sweet by and by than my husband wants to hear.

Asthma kind of takes the fight out of life. Asthma takes the fun out of life. Asthma takes good nights rest with it too. Asthma steals my joy for spring. Asthma takes me back to the house right after I go for a walk. Asthma sucks the air out of me bit by little bit.

Asthma is only one part of my life. It is not all of my life. Asthma is not really the enemy. Some days it sure seems that way.

And if you are a doctor that never ran until you collapsed and lost you stomach’s contents on the beach like Jonah’s whale… Well, I have news for you. Asthma hurts. And sometimes it is that little nagging nausea that tells me I better get some help or dizziness and darkness might win the race.

James 4:14 “Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow, For what is you life/. It is just a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”